


At The River

by MilesCries



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol and drug abuse, Gabriel will show up at some point, M/M, Mechanic Dean, attempted suicide, domestic AU, past self-harm, very slow build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-15
Updated: 2017-07-01
Packaged: 2018-11-14 09:11:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11204907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MilesCries/pseuds/MilesCries
Summary: On a lovely morning, Dean spots a tie draped around the railing of the bridge on his way to Ellen's. At the bottom he finds a man who's battling his demons as much as he is, unconcious and barely alive.Where Cas attempted suicide and falls in love with the man who saved his life.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I just began writing this so it might come out a little slow since I'll be posting each chapter as I go~ 
> 
> For anyone who's sensitive to the thought of suicide and depression, i just want to give warning before you read this!
> 
> Anyway~ I hope you like it!  
> More to come :)

The sky ran red as the sun peeked lazily over its comforter of hills and horizon, ready to retire. Remissive wisps of air grazed his reddening cheeks and brought his attention to the wind slowly chilling his skin. A shaky hand reached weakly to card through short, swept hair as the other laid stationary, cold fingers growing numb curling tightly around the slick metal rail. Watery eyes laminated his thoughts as his gaze travelled forcefully to the river rushing below. A scornful smile crept its way on pressed lips as his jaw dug painfully into soft tissue drawing copper pools inside his mouth. It was the irony of what he planned on an otherwise beautiful day; even the sound of the river seemed peaceful, unsuspecting, far below him. 

A thick breath fled from shuddering lungs in a resignated white cloud as he hauled each leg over the railing mechanically. Peering down from the other side had been easy, he’d been there before. However, now the crashing current seemed to spit up in anger, prepared to swallow him whole and it scared him. His heart begged him to step back, a frantic alarm caught in his chest, painfully beating in fear as its last words on earth. 

Closing his eyes, he loosened his hands surrendering their hold, leaving behind the final paintings of his fingerprints. 

Though his throat had closed and his voice was lost in the wind he barely heard himself whisper, “At the very least, I need to do something right.” before he stepped off the tired ledge, letting air be the only thing that held him from the cold spring water. 

+++

Driving through secluded roads Zeppelin crashed loud from the speakers, the beat backed in familiar rhythm of Dean’s thumbs on the steering wheel. As spring began to interrupt winter’s withering effects, docile fields erupted with patches of green that glew delicately with morning dew. He squinted his eyes against the sun as the bridge came into view, the pale light formed a delicate film of gentle yellow that danced across every surface in early hour hues. 

As the song faded towards the next, something peculiar flashed narrowly in Dean’s sight. Had he been on his way to work, Dean would have just kept driving, but something about this scene made his stomach feel vacant. 

Carefully, he pulled the Impala to the side of the bridge, tires crunching over cracked asphalt sprinkled along the curb. The clipped sound of the car door closing behind him echoed curtly as he stepped onto the street. Without needing to look either way, his heavy boots scuffed the road filling the stillness of the air, taking speculative steps to the other side. 

Draped in a loose knot, a lonely blue tie dangled from the bridge’s rusting banister. The bright material slipped smoothly between Dean’s fingers while he examined it with hesitance. 

The tie dropped from his hand, left to wreathe in soft coils with the breeze as he looked up toward the tide streaming beneath him. A shallow breath hitched his lungs as a flicker of white trapped his eyes. 

For a moment he was still, transfixed and far away, locked on the body nestled placidly among grey rocks and a beige coat. His feet lifted, pivoting swiftly in panic as he ran to the end of the bridge, slipping clumsily downhill on damp grass. Dean tracked his way cautiously on each rock, each surface glistening, splashed and darkened from the water just steps away. 

Kneeling beside the man, Dean rasped between breaths, “Hey, buddy, you with me?” he pleaded roughly. 

The man’s complexion was stark with pallor, eyelids closed, cold and sunken in sickly purple to match his fingertips. Crisp lines of pink hashed his cheek, scrapes embroidered rosily where the stones etched delicate skin. Dean pulled the man’s arm towards him, scrunching the sleeves harshly up his wrist, looking desperately for a sign of life.

Low and defeated, a pulse struggled to sing its verse, nearly deafened by its desire to rest. Raising his focus, sparse breaths rose against the man’s white shirt, plastered tightly around his figure like wet paper. Realizing this, Dean relaxed, sitting back on his heels as he contemplated what to do.

He didn’t know the man, not a name or address, no reason to risk helping him. 

The sound of the man’s breathing stole him from his thoughts, suddenly erratic. Harsh shudders wracked his swollen frame unnaturally, not yet shaken from his leaden slumber. 

Concern for this man overwhelmed the concerns for himself, again he was handed the chance to help someone, he wouldn’t mess it up this time. Dean stood, casting a resolute exhale as he bent down to loop his arms under trembling limbs. His hands dug into the man’s waterlogged skin with the added weight of densely sodden garments dripping thickly on the sleek stones that felt ragged through the soles of his shoes. The man whimpered unconsciously furrowing deeper in Dean’s hold, darkening his shirt when the water sank thoroughly through his flannel where the man flushed against him. At this Dean tried to be gentle, taking tentative, ginger steps as not to jostle him any more than he had; it was obvious the man had several injuries, not all surface level. 

When he reached the Impala, Dean struggled to open the door, hooking his pinky around the handle and taking a few steps back. Lightly, he shrugged the man’s coat off his shoulders and laid it on the floor of the car before delicately setting the man down across the back seat.

As he closed the door and turned, jingling the keys from his pocket, his eyes were met again with the striking blue tie. Twice that morning he found himself drawn to it, crossing the street to unlace the cloth that streamed helplessly from the bridge. 

Finally behind the wheel of his car, Dean looked to his mirror, taking in the sight of this man who tried to destroy himself. He never wondered why someone would do that, he’d thought of it so many times himself, it seemed normal. Maybe that was why he needed to help, he didn’t want to see anyone else as miserable as himself. It was empathy that sealed it.

+++

end ch. 1


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cas wakes up at the Roadhouse in shambles~ Dean has a hard time forming a conversation with the stubborn man
> 
> More will be on the way soon! I'm still just posting as I go here~

His eyes shot open. Pain coursed his body, he felt locked in place, like a robot who’d rusted over in the rain. His face was pressed uncomfortably on a hard wooden table, letting himself drift off, hugging the thick blanket tighter around himself. 

His eyes shot open again, suddenly aware. Slowly, he lifted his head, he was rigid in his seat as he shifted his gaze from one part of the room to another. 

“No.” He whispered to himself, “No, no, no,” shedding the blanket and throwing it from his body, he shook his head, “This isn’t right.” Shivering in panic, he looked through his fingers as his hands crept up his face. 

“I think he’s awake!” He heard a woman say somewhat distantly, snapping his head in her direction as heavy footsteps entered from another side. He met her shocked expression from behind a bar, the rest blurred by tears rolling down hotly, burning his arm with dense drops. 

As the steps rounded a corner, rushing slightly as the wooden floors shrieked a worn cry, he wiped his eyes and peeked at the man approaching him. He was tall and lean, his hair cropped short, and his jeans faded like the sun bleached them itself.

He ducked his head again as the man turned to wave off the woman at the bar, “Thanks, Ellen.” He said with a smile, gladful wrinkles radiated off the corners of his eyes and wrapped to his brow, welcoming his fond tone familiarly.

With a rush of air, the seat across from him was taken, yet he couldn’t bring himself to meet the face he knew was staring at him. 

“You got a name?” The man inquired gruffly, but there was a patience in his voice as it echoed emptily through the quiet bar. 

“Castiel,” he replied, his vocals course and deeper than normal, throat shear and raw from the water he’d swallowed. Still refusing to look up, he played anxiously with the hem of the blanket beside him.

“That’s an interesting name,” he replied, Castiel nodded tensely in return, “Bit of a mouthful though.” The man said, trying his best to elicit some sort of casualty or response, but he only nodded again. 

After a moment, he spoke up once more, “I’m Dean by the way, and that was Ellen at the bar there.” Dean said, gesturing behind him where the woman no longer stood.

“I’m not supposed to be here.” Castiel stated, disappointment drawn clearly through his words. He cradled his head in his hands, painfully burrowing into the heels of his palms as he shook, gasping to trap his sobs.

“Well I’m not letting you leave here,” Dean countered, a degree of confidence slipping from his hold as if he expected Castiel to flee, “Besides, your clothes are in the drier, they were completely soaked through.”

With the weight of the blanket before, Castiel hadn’t noticed the loss of his coat until now. In fact, his arms were exposed, a thin t shirt hung loosely off his frame in a rustic maroon. Looking down, a thick pair of grey sweatpants adorned his legs and scrunched with elastic at his bare feet, a relaxed attire he was definitely not used to. 

“You can have this back though, at least I think it belongs to you.” He looked up just in time to see what Dean was referring to, a sliver of blue escaped from his pocket and was set on the table in front of Castiel. He looked at Dean directly for the first time, blue eyes in striking similarity to the garment. 

“Thank you.” Castiel said, tone still sullen but grateful for the ounce of comfort it offered him, able to recognize something in this foreign environment.

“And don’t worry, it was Ellen who swapped your outfit, I just picked it out.” He said with a bit of a laugh, trying to ease the conversation however one-sided it may be. The air was strained as Castiel stared stoically, ruffling the tie nervously in his hands, “Look it’s still gonna be another half hour till you can get your stuff back, how ‘bout a drink? You more of a beer or whiskey guy?” Dean asked, climbing out of his seat.

“Beer is fine.” He rasped, going to follow Dean to the bar with a wince when Ellen appeared back in the room.

“You won’t wanna stand up with all that’s been dealt to ya, honey. When Dean carried you in here I thought you were gone for sure.” She said in a drawl, ushering Dean back to the table, “ And what’re you doin’ offering the kid alcohol? He can barely talk, I’ll get him some tea and I’m limiting your drinks, Dean.” She said, pushing Dean down to sit and sending a reassuring wink to Castiel who smiled politely in return. 

“Sorry about that,” Dean added sheepishly as Ellen walked away, “I tend not to think too much before I do things.” he almost seemed upset, as if every mistake was held detriment. 

He offered Dean a gentle curve of his lips, eyeing him with sincerity, “I think anything is better than letting yourself overthink things.” he tried, experience lapped over words.

A small smirk displaced Dean’s expression as Ellen approached the booth, “Damn right. I’ve been trying to tell this joker the same thing for ages, but the kid’s stubborn.” She interrupted as she placed the mug down carefully, placing a bottle in front of Dean. Castiel watched Dean as he ripped the cap off with a hiss on the edge of his ring, casting a glare at Ellen who kept face easily. 

“Yeah, yeah. Thanks, Ellen.” he said, necking the glass, drowning the liquid like water.

“Well, I’ll leave you boys alone. If ya need anything, just give me a holler.” she said as she turned to leave, “Maybe you can learn a thing or two from this one, Dean.” she spoke, already across the bar and heading to the back. 

“She seems nice.” Castiel inquired, sipping the warm tea shakily as Dean smiled to himself, making the wrinkles reappear. 

“That’s Ellen for you, she’s family. She’s tough but I know she’d do anything for me and Sammy, hell she already has.” he said unwavering, folding his arms around the bottle, it was honest.

“Sammy?” Castiel questioned, a new name. 

“Oh, sorry. Sam, he’s my little brother. Don’t let him hear you call him that though, he hates it.” he noted quickly, a playfulness conveyed through his thoughts, “Ellen’s been picking us up for quite some time now, it’s a miracle the patience that woman has.” 

“Patience is a good attribute to have.” he fared, wringing his hands around the warm cup. 

“Well if you’re dealing with me, you’re gonna need it.” his voice feeling colder. A faint beep called weakly from another room, “I’ll get your clothes, it’s probably not a good idea for you to stand up if you don’t need to. I think you’re sporting a few bruised ribs so take it easy.” he said with a wink, leaving Castiel alone in the open room. 

The bar was dark, the ambiance set to appear musty and dull; he’d lost the initial shock of discomfort but it still felt unnatural, like he was watching himself perform. Dust-sheltered windows filmed the streetlights outside and he followed floating particles as they leapt carelessly, illuminated in the haze. He took a moment to ponder the two people he met upon waking at the bar. He thought about Dean, about how authentic he occured in word and action, what made speaking to him come easier than it should. However, there was something about the man that screamed to him in recognition, like he chose his words to avoid confrontation. Hiding was not an unusual feeling in Castiel’s world. 

Dean came back, bundle of clothes in hand, “Here you are, they’re still nice and toasty too!” he said giddily, retrieving Castiel’s attention. 

“I’m sorry,” Castiel blurted, catching the other man off guard, reaching to gather the laundry that lingered with warmth. 

“What?” Dean asked, obviously confused.

“It was not your responsibility to take care of me, not you or Miss Ellen, I just want to apologize.” Castiel replied guiltily, focused on the clothes in his grasp. 

“Whoa, slow down, you have nothing to apologize for. Look, I found you at the bridge, you weren’t gonna last much longer.” he swallowed, “I wanted to help.”

“You could have left me there, it would have been fine.” he assured.

“No.” Dean stood apprehensively, leaning against the booth, “There’s no way I was gonna leave you there. I’m not going to ask why you did it, but I think I know how it feels to be that low in life where bad decisions come easy, but I’m not gonna watch someone else throw their life away if I can do something to help. I need to help someone.” he declared warily. 

“And I just wanted to do something right.” Castiel broke lowly, not needing an explanation. The steady sound of ventilation was the only thing that dared to utter in the taut silence before Dean elaborated again.

“You probably think I’m insane. I mean I don’t even know your last name, but I don’t want to see you leave here only to find you in the same place.” 

“I don’t think I can stand by myself, much less do I think I can haul myself over that railing at this moment.” he articulated with assurance, “It hurt.”

Dean looked up again in disbelief, meeting the glint of Castiel’s expression. His stomach buckled in laughter, eyes watering from the blatancy of that statement, the paneled walls of the bar resonating as he tried to recoup himself. “I’m sorry,” he said, “I shouldn’t laugh.” 

Castiel wasn’t sure what exactly made this man snicker with such amusement, but he was thankful. The man radiated bright, beaming with a smile that graced his features as if they rejoiced for the purpose of lost time. Folding the clothes over his arm, Castiel braced himself to move, pleading his body not to give out as he moved cautiously from his seat. 

Dean seemed not to notice until Castiel held out his hand, supporting himself wobbly with one arm on the tabletop. “Shurley,” he said calmly, “It’s Castiel Shurley.” a smile of his own floating genially on display.

“Dean Winchester,” he said, clamping Castiel’s hand firmly in response, “It’s good to finally meet you.” lines never leaving his eyes. 

+++

end ch. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What happens next when it's finally time for Cas to go?  
> ( • n • )!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alrighty~ I wanna make updates regularly so I think I'm gonna try posting twice a week on Tuesdays and Fridays! I hope that works out~ ( O o Ò ) 
> 
> Anyways~ Thank you to all that have read this so far!

A yelp seared behind the bathroom door coarsely, followed by perplexed tumbling and a string of muddled curses. Castiel caught himself on his knees, arms draped steadily on the sink in gratitude, preventing his body from crashing on the tiled floor. He’d finally pulled his khaki pants to his waist when a spike of pain lashed his side in a fierce whip. 

“Hey, uh, you okay in there Cas?” Dean’s voice shrunk from the hallway, “I mean, I can get Ellen or I can help if you want?” he offered. Dean had told Castiel not to worry about the clothes when the man announced he would go change, but he seemed eager to return to his own wardrobe. 

“Cas?” he replied weakly, speaking to the drain in the sink. 

“Oh sorry,” Dean spoke quickly, “I can just call you Castiel if you want? The whole thing’s a bit much though.” 

“I’ve never had anyone call me that is all. I don’t mind.” He said, groaning as he sat back to rest on the wall, preparing himself to attempt putting on his shoes.

“Are you sure you don’t need any help? You really shouldn’t be moving around so much.” Dean asked, wincing at the sounds as he stared fretfully at the bathroom door. 

“I’m okay.” Castiel replied, reaching across the tiles for his shoes, “I think.” He added. 

“Well alright,” Dean said uncertainly, chuckling at Cas’s words, “I’ll just wait over by the booth then. Let me know if you can’t get up.” 

+++

Shy steps approached from the back of the room and stole Dean’s attention. Cas wandered in, beige coat drooped over one arm, clutching his torso wearily with the other. 

“Hey, careful, you should sit down for a minute,” Dean said, standing up to walk Cas to the seat, a hand hovering over his shoulder in case something happened. “Ellen just closed shop for the night. She said it’d be fine for us to stay a while though so no worries there!” he reassured, guiding Castiel watchfully.

The quiet gentleman managed to adorn his dress clothes like any other man would casually toss on a pair of shorts. Khakis fit slimly on athletic legs and crinkled around his ankles, a couple inches too long. His suit jacket was left open, displaying his white shirt, buttoned crisply to the top and tucked in neatly at the bottom. 

The tie laid rolled out on the table where Cas had left it, “I had forgotten to take this with me when I went to change.” Castiel said more to himself as he leaned to swipe it up.

“Here, I can put it on for you if that’s easier?” Dean offered, feeling Cas had already exerted himself.

“Thank you, but you’ve helped enough, I can at least do this myself.” He said, already threading the material under his collar, struggling to look down at what his hands were doing. After a few bumbling attempts, a knot was slipped and Castiel’s arms fell limply at his sides, weak and heavy as he looked at Dean proudly.

Dean couldn’t hold his grin however, covering his mouth as he tried to stifle his laughter, “Dude, your tie’s backwards,” smile eating his face, “Just, here. Lemme do it for you.” not waiting for retaliation, gliding his fingers through the material with ease. 

Each time he grazed Castiel’s shirt, the man flinched stiff. Castiel noticed Dean’s sudden apprehension and tried to shoulder the nerves that shocked his figure when the touches skimmed where bruises shaped in tender purple silhouettes. Strangely, he felt sympathy for the rough and dusted man who endured his own condemnation for every action he’d sensed fault. It was as if watching a man who feared reaction, trained to expect it to come. For the man’s comfort, Castiel made sure to stay still. 

In more confidence, Dean’s hands began moving more quickly, the tie pulled deftly in a perfect knot. “Much better.” Dean said, pulling away to look at his mastery, “If you could actually walk more than a few feet, I’d say you’d be ready to hit the town there, Cas.” hands hoisted on his hips in admiration.

“Hit the town?” Cas asked, “That doesn’t sound like the right way to treat it.” he stated narrowly. 

“What?” Dean replied dumbly, taking a moment to register what Cas had said, “Y’know, like, the saying? ‘Hit the town’?” searching his face for recognition.

Cas only peered back in confusion, “I don’t understand.” he illustrated with the tilt of his head.

“How do you—” he stopped mid-question, shaking his head, “Nevermind, it’s like if you’re going out to have fun, or go to a bar. Anything like that really.” he continued amusedly, thumbs tugging awkwardly in his belt loops. Castiel only nodded in return, absorbing the information. 

Another bolt of pain traveled his side painfully as his body jarred violently, a constricted cry departing his diaphragm, clenched and strained. Dean caught Castiel before he crumbled to the ground, hauling the taxed man nimbly to his seat. 

“I’m sorry.” Castiel panted through short, shallow breaths as not to expand his lungs farther than necessary. 

“You’ve got to stop doing that.” Dean said, sitting across from Cas, eyes fixed with worry. Castiel only managed a look, insinuating his question to Dean’s statement. “Apologizing, you’ve gotta stop apologizing. It’s not like you ran over my foot or anything.” 

“Oh, I apologize.” Cas said automatically, “Or, wait, no. I’m not sorry? I think.” he faltered, realizing his blunder. 

“You’re a funny guy, Cas.” Dean said, laughing lightly.

“I don’t try to be humorous, although I hope that’s not a bad thing.” Cas said self-consciously.

“Trust me, it’s not.” Dean promised, “I think we need a few more laughs around here anyway, hell knows Sammy’s got no sense of humour.” he claimed with levity, lack of gravity tearing his words. 

“If you don’t mind my saying, you seem to be very close with your brother.” Castiel deduced as the glint in the Winchester’s eyes surfaced at Sam’s mention.

“Well, he’s my little brother. We’ve both got a few knicks here and there, but we’ve always looked out for each other.” Dean said sincerely, “I don’t think I could imagine a world without him, y’know?” Castiel smiled at Dean’s warm demeanor. 

“I believe it’s very admirable to have such dear people in your life.” Cas said, looking down at his hands, tender smile on paled lips.

“I wouldn’t say admirable, he’s my family, that’s how it should be. I practically raised the kid, I’d sacrifice anything for him.” Dean replied, not having to think about his words as they flew straight from his heart. “How about you, Cas?”

“I’m not sure I understand.” he stated.

“Family, do you have anyone like that?” he clarified, “You probably wanna go home after all this.” 

“I have a lot of family. However, I could not speak of any of them the way you speak of yours.” he spoke, seeming smaller, “We are quite estranged.” 

“I’m sorry, I’ve really gotta think before I start asking stupid questions.” Dean berated himself, lucky enough to keep the family he had.

“There’s no need to worry, things have been this way a while.” Castiel said, looking up again.

“I hate to ask but, do you have a place to stay? A friend’s place maybe?” Dean asked, scared to let Cas go. 

“No, I don’t have any friends.” he said timidly, “I have been told I’m not the greatest of company.” 

“Well you’ve been talking to me this whole time and I can’t find anything wrong with you.” Dean said surely, making Cas exhale a welcomed laugh, “Either way, I hope you’ll add me to the list after today. We make a good match.”

Cas stared at him, doe eyed, “You want to be friends with me?” he asked unsure of himself.

“Well yeah, if you wanna be.” Dean said with a grin, taken by Cas’s diffidence. 

“Of course! Although, I’ve never really had friends before.” Cas gleamed with oblivious excitement. 

“I don’t have many myself, so I think it’ll be just fine.” Cas nodded at the information, “Anyway why don’t you stay at my place for a while? If you don’t have anywhere to go I mean.” 

“You don’t have to do that for me, I can manage something.” Cas said, not wanting to trouble his new friend. 

“You wouldn’t be bothering me, I promise. Plus, I’m sure Sam would enjoy your company.” Dean countered determinedly, “I won’t let you leave without a roof over your head, Cas.” 

“I don’t want to be a burden.” he uttered quiety.

“C’mon, it’s getting late anyway,” Dean said, standing resolutely, “You’re not gonna burden me.” reaching his hand out for Cas to take.

“Thank you, Dean.” He whispered, taking his hand to wiggle from the booth.

“Oh! And now I get to introduce you to Baby!” Dean said waggling his eyebrows like a child.

“Baby?” Castiel asked.

“Oh, you’ll love her. Everyone does.” he assured as they made their way to the door.

+++ 

end ch. 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Watch out for the next chapter when Cas stays over and meets Sam!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh sorry I didn't get a chapter ready by Saturday~ I've been super busy in Vancouver with classes and all that D:
> 
> Anyway I hope this one's good!

“Harvelle’s Roadhouse.” Castiel read aloud, turning attention to the glowing sign that illuminated the night sky warmly. “Who is Harvelle?” 

“Oh, that’s Ellen, her last name anyway.” Dean explained, becoming accustomed to Castiel’s steady confusion, “And this right here is Baby.” 

Patting the hood of a well-kept black car, Dean admired the machine and ran his hand across the glossy exterior, opening the passenger door for Cas. “It certainly is a lovely vehicle,” Cas appreciated, taking drawn steps toward the car as he took in the scene around him, “Although, I don’t know much about cars, I can tell you take care of this one very well.” 

Cas sat down on the leather bench seat as Dean closed his door smoothly, “Yup, 1967 Chevrolet Impala. I’ve known this car since the day I was born and I’ll make sure it stays this way till the day I die.” he said proudly, blending easily into the car’s interior as he slid next to Cas. “Besides, you don’t need to know anything about cars to know that she’s a grade-A beauty.” Dean’s speech tapered off with the abrupt grumble of his stomach, he looked down at his shirt accusingly and laughed. “Even more reason to get home.”

Castiel smiled at his antics, but it sank just as quickly, “I’m sorry, it’s probably my fault you haven't eaten anything.” he said, head down.

“What’re you talkin about, Cas? I had lunch at Ellen’s,” he said, “I just happen to have a good appetite.” Dean looked at Cas to make sure he understood, but was caught once again by the rumble wailing from his stomach. As he glanced up, an amused smile tickled Cas’s cheeks, almost thankful to Dean, “Well, let’s get this show on the road.”

“What show?” Cas asked innocently.

“What? There’s no actual show, Cas,” Dean said, giving himself a moment, “It’s another saying, like the last—” he was cut off by a stream of giggles, bouncing off Castiel’s shoulders like he’d gotten away with something.

“I’m sorry, Dean,” Cas scrapped through breaths, “I already knew that one.” Cas admitted, wiping his eyes, happy with himself.

A fit of laughter cramped Dean’s lungs as he looked at Cas in disbelief, “Goddammit, Cas.” the man actually made a joke.

The two sat aching for breath in the Roadhouse parking lot until Dean started the car, headlights leaking through the late haze. “You a music guy?” Dean asked, stretching over Cas to reveal his cassette collection stashed loosely in the glove compartment. 

“I never really listened to any music.” Cas said, “I’m not very familiar with it.”

“Oh, buddy, we’re gonna change that.” Dean said, snatching a tape and gliding it into the console. “You’ve got a lot to learn.” The music started and Dean put the car into drive, mindfully maneuvering to the street. He looked over at Cas before making the turn, his fingers peeking from his coat, already tuned to the rhythm. With that, Dean turned it up and nodded his head to the same track he heard that morning. He took the long way home, avoiding the fractured, white road that led back towards a rusted old bridge he never thought much of before.

+++

“Dean, oh my god,” Sam rushed to hug his brother as he came through the door, “Where’ve you been? You didn’t answer my calls, I was worried.” long arms enveloping the older Winchester, wrapping to meet effortlessly behind his back. 

“Sorry,” Dean said as he peeled away from the grasp, “I didn’t know I’d be out so late tonight, I left my phone here. I was just at Ellen’s.” The mousy figure standing behind Dean steered Sam’s attention, shuffling from foot to foot, fixed on the floor. 

“Hey, sorry about that,” Sam said to the man, letting his brother break away, “I’m Sam.” he held his hand out roseately, yet still curious of the sudden company.

“Nice to meet you, I’m—” Cas faltered returning the gesture, bending slightly as he choked out a groan of pain. Dean fluttered to his side, taking an arm and leading him to the living room sofa. 

“Shit, Cas.” Dean exclaimed, setting him awkwardly on the cushions, “Here, hold out your arms, I’m just gonna take your jacket.” he spoke softly, working the beige coat to expose the white dress shirt underneath. Once it was off, Cas curled into himself, bracing and hoping the lashes would just stop. Dean laid the trench on the back of the seat as Sam ran off to the kitchen to get a glass of water. 

“I’m sorry.” Cas croaked, shallow breaths easing gradually. 

“We talked about this Cas, there’s nothing to apologize for.” 

“Dean, here.” Sam leaned down, handing over a glass of water and a few painkillers, “What’s going on?” he asked anxiously, eyeing his brother and the man on their couch. “Do we need to take him to a doctor? This doesn’t look good.”

“I’m fine.” Cas cut in, sitting back again, muscles relaxing. 

“You’re not fine, Cas.” Dean interjected, “Is it okay if I take a look at your ribs? I just want to make sure it’s not something we can’t handle.” 

Cas nodded, unraveling his tie and setting it over his coat. Lifting the shirt from the bottom, Dean winced as he ran his thumbs across the blotted skin. Washed pigmentation struck rigidly with deep reds and blues mottled in rugged disarray, the sight making the brothers’ guts flip. 

“I’ll get some ice.” Sam said, rushing back to the fridge. 

With that, Dean let go of Cas’s shirt, sending him the glass and tablets to swallow. What Sam brought over was a bit much, but he figured Cas would need it. He took them all at once, sipping the water slowly, coughing tersely at the end. 

Sam returned and gave the bag of ice to Castiel which Dean took and placed gently to Cas’s bruises. “Thank you, Sam.” Cas said, looking up at the towering younger brother, “I’m Castiel, by the way.” holding his hand out, offering the gesture back. 

“That’s an interesting name,” Sam said, smiling kindly to Cas as he shook his hand, “It feels a bit weird to say.” 

“I would laugh, but my stomach hurts.” Cas said, chuckling softly, “Your brother said the same thing.” 

“That’s Dean for you.” Sam teased, giving the man his hand back. He had so many questions, but he trusted his brother enough to bite his tongue for the moment. “I should probably let you guys talk, give you some rest. Have you guys eaten?”

“Oh no no no, Sam. You are not making food for anyone.” Dean stated, rising with faux seriousness, “I can make us all some burgers, how does that sound? None of your rabbit food.” Sam pretended to appear offended, but couldn’t keep his expression flat. 

“Fine, Dean. But don’t put too much butter in the pan this time.” Sam gnawed, turning back to the living room so Cas wouldn’t be alone. 

“That’s fine with you, Cas?” Dean asked over his shoulder, already making his way to the stove.

“I’d actually really enjoy a burger.” Cas said with held excitement. 

“Then it’s settled!” The stove sparked to life as a pan was set heavily on top, Dean opening the fridge to locate the ground beef. 

Sam was going to have some answers later. 

+++

end. ch. 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What will happen next time when Sam starts asking questions? How will he take Cas staying with them?  
> v( O ~ O )v


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Despite the celebrations of Canada day, I managed to write this little peice! I hope this wasn't too despressing~   
> Thank you for reading!

“Oh my,” Cas dug in, speaking sloppily around cheeks full of food, “Dean. These burgers, they’re amazing.” his regular inhibitions momentarily forgotten as he licked the juices that slithered greasily down his fingertips. 

All three men settled themselves in the living room, reluctant to move Cas to the kitchen table. Dean slack on the couch with his new friend, sharing an entertained smile with Sam across from them on the armchair. “Thanks, I’m glad someone appreciates my mastery.” he said, shooting a chaffed smirk at his brother, “But seriously Cas, try not to swallow your hands there.” 

“Oh I wouldn’t do that, I think I would choke if I tried.” Cas said, oblivious to all forms of sarcasm as he set his empty plate on the coffee table and wiped his hands on an utterly abused napkin. 

Sam’s brows knitted together, momentarily befuddled by Cas’s misunderstandings, noticing his brother seemed to enjoy the man’s tangled comprehension. “So uh, Cas,” Sam started, clearing his throat, “Where are you from? Dean and I grew up here in Kansas.” 

Cas retreated to his previously circumspect disposition as he adjusted to answer Sam’s question, “I’m from Pontiac, in Illinois, I lived there up until a few years ago.” 

“What made you move here, if I can ask?” Sam prompted the unfilled statement.

“It’s alright,” Cas said, albeit seeping with reluctance, “I had some issues concerning my family, they pushed me from their home.” he ended, stuck on his hands folded neatly in his lap. 

“I’m sorry,” Sam apologized, the warmth of guilt crawled, leaking unpleasantly throughout his tall shape, “I didn’t mean to bring that up.”

“It’s fine,” Cas smiled, leaning forward slightly to capture the younger man’s gaze, “It happened so long ago now, their mention is not enough to upset me.” 

“How could your family do that?” Dean objected, a bubbling contempt building for people he’d never met, “That’s not okay.”

“They had their own reasons, Dean.” Castiel said as if sedated, like he’d calmly practiced the mantra to convince himself. “My family had differing opinions to how I should live my life. If I could not be to their standards, I was to be punished.” 

“That’s a load of crap, Cas.” Dean argued, “Who cares about some opinions? They kicked you out over disagreements? Some family they are.” 

“Well not all of them.” Castiel granted, “I moved here to stay with one of my brothers who offered me his home despite everything.” he added with a fond countenance, “However, I am no longer living with him, I can’t go back to face him.” 

“Castiel, you don’t have to go any further than that.” Sam stopped him, “Here, I’ll take your plates.” Dean stacked the two dishes and handed them to Sam quietly, still pondering what Cas had said. Dean wanted so badly to ask Cas about his brother, what reason there could be that made him so terrified of returning to his own family. 

The flushing of water announced emptily from the other room as Sam moved languidly to rinse the plates. Dean inhaled a tall take of air, defusing the burning questions on his tongue, “Cas, why don’t I show you to a room? I’ll help you up.” Cas nodded and let Dean’s hand on his back guide him to a hobbled stance. 

He led him down the hall to his side of the house slowly, making sure Cas didn’t trip on his feet. “Thank you, Dean.” Cas said suddenly, stumbling along the laminate floor, “Also, I’m sorry if I said too much. It wasn’t my intention to make you uncomfortable.” 

Dean stopped in front of the door next to his own, extending both his hands to rest on Cas’s shoulders, “Cas, no, come here.” 

He pulled the shorter man in, offering solace in arms enwound sturdily to alleviate the weight of his hurt. Cas was foreign to this feeling, why he started to cry against this man he just met, from a simple touch. A stranger to the phrase “comfort”. 

They stood there until Cas’s stuttering died inaudibly, his face streaked with salted lines that soaked the fabric of Dean’s shirt. Sam watched for a moment from the hallway, a merciful expression of empathy as his brother soothed the man in his hold, departing to give them their privacy. He was amazed to see his big brother remaining so calm, easeful despite the length of contact he’d normally wiggle away from. For some reason, with this new friend, Dean appeared so close, lacking his distance. 

“Cas,” Dean started, taking a step back to meet blue eyes, “You’ve gotta stop apologizing man.” his tone carried a heavier meaning. A jestered expression betrayed through faults he’d displayed deliberately to be seen as something more. It was that layer of protection Cas had seen before, and even then had easily scanned through. “Anyway, this here’s your room.” Dean said, letting his hands fall from where they lingered on Cas’s arms to point to the white door beside them. “And you’re probably feelin’ a little washed out, so I’ll show you to the bathroom. You can take a shower and all that, get cozy.” 

Dean began walking further down the hall to lead Cas to the bathroom when be felt a hand on his elbow stop him, “Thank you again, Dean.” Cas said with that same hidden earnest that Dean was used to, disguised only in nuance. 

“No problem, Cas.” Dean smiled, understanding. “I’ll leave some of my pajamas for you to wear outside the door, you can’t sleep in that suit.” Dean made a point by examining Cas up and down, “Not comfortably anyway.” 

Cas smiled sheepishly, his suit was like a second skin, but he wouldn’t turn away Dean’s generosity. “I’d appreciate that.” he said instead, walking into the neat space and closing the door behind him after a pleased smile graced Dean’s face. 

Cas heard his footsteps travel back down the hallway and took a breath with his head against the door. Turning, he inspected the faucet in the shower, studying it before turning the dial. Releasing hot water, it steamed the mirror from his reflection as he began to undress. He flinched as he lowered the material, discoloured with white that marred his thighs in tidy rows as the water hit the floor reminding him of the river. 

Instead he focused on the heat, the cloudy room that welcomed him in place of the icy rapids that devoured him whole.

+++

end ch. 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter, Sam and Dean have a discussion and Dean explains how he found Cas that morning~

**Author's Note:**

> Find out what happens next time when Cas wakes up at an unfamiliar bar surrounded by an unfamiliar group of people  
> ( • ~ • )!!


End file.
